


Reflections

by Spammie_Tales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Creatures, Disappearances, Education, Gen, History, Home, Implantation, Islands, Other, Planet, Return, Sacrifice, Science Fiction, Sky - Freeform, Technology, alien - Freeform, change, technological drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spammie_Tales/pseuds/Spammie_Tales
Summary: Returning home was harder than I thought





	1. We Learn

This was my home once, before I ran. My memories make it seem like a harsh place and yet now that I am standing here amongst its ruins all I remember is a beautiful, thriving world. Where had all of that anger and hostility come from? Was it as bad as I made it out to be or had I simply been young and blind? I lived amongst the Sky Islands on my own floating paradise. From up here everything seemed purple and blue and royal as opposed to this orange and yellow ruined place. Would I still have left if I knew I would never see it that way again?

I learned of our history, our government, our rapidly changing environments and our progress in those buildings over there, on that island. Each octagonal room clumped together like chambers in a beehive. Students buzzing about the halls, collecting information and turning it all into the sweetest of endeavours; success. It didn't matter where you came from, this is where you went to learn and grow. "A great institute of progress" they called it. What a ridiculously vague sentiment for somewhere the young were forced to be; to learn; all in the name of our continued progression towards the future. Our education wasn't something left to the strengths of the children however. I suppose that's what made our system work as well as it did, despite the cruelty of the process.

Early on we found strange jellyfish type organisms living in the air. They were tiny but you could still see them floating around, in the right sort of light, all over the islands. At first it was thought they were dust or pollen from the surface until the first few observations were made of curiosity in the creatures. After a few years of study our ancestors figured out how to keep them on this one particular island of learning and how to use them to the advantage of our people. From that point on it was inevitable that the practice would continue for hundreds of years beyond its creation. The creatures would enter the minds of the children and open them up to storing all manner of information. There was no doubt that those creatures helped us be smarter but why they only affected children was a question never answered. At least, not while I was here. Our ancestors speculated on what the jellyfish could do for us, if only they had known the full extent. Some people protested of course and I'm glad they did, even if they lost their fight in the end. As with anything rushed, the jellyfish had their drawbacks. If only our ancestors had listened.

For one thing, once they took root in our heads we became focused and though that sounds like a good thing on the surface, in reality it was too much. No matter what we did, we focused on it and found it almost impossible to stop. Often I would be at some party hosted by my parents and they would be laughing with their friends, swapping stories of the quirks their children had developed since those creatures implanted themselves. Their favourite of mine was the day I spent out in a storm, refusing to go inside until I had finished some game I had made up in my head. Unsurprisingly I got sick and became so focused on getting better I nearly made things worse for myself. In the end I was sent to a specialist trained to, in essence, distract me from myself. It worked, for a time.

And then there was the removal ceremony. Even now I feel sick to think of that day as something to be celebrated. Children who had reached their limit of learning were paraded out on display, the sweetness of orange blossoms woven into thick crowns placed upon their heads. I had one too, when it was my time. The strength of the perfumed flowers made my head spin and yet it was the best part of the day even if now I can't stand them. After showcasing what we had learned we were taken to the smallest of the islands where one grey and uninviting building stood. I think the orange blossoms were supposed to hide the smell of fear, blood and bleach that greeted any who had the misfortune to enter.

I don't remember much leading up to the operation. Windowless hallways in more grey, people in long coats of green and a blinding light that filled my vision when the pain began. They couldn't put us to sleep because the organisms had a way of camouflaging themselves when we slept. Cutting open our skulls was pointless if they couldn't see what they were taking out. By the time the creatures had to be removed it was very easy to see them. It was always unclear what they were feeding off whilst in the minds of the children but those jellyfish things would gorge themselves.

For some reason the doctors thought that seeing what we played host to would be a way to make up for the pain they caused us during removal. Forcing us to stay awake with stimulants pumped into our systems by sharpened needles, what could possibly make up for that? I remember the one they showed me. It had begun to shrivel in the container, this semi-translucent purple creature that used to live in my head. When they're small they could be easily dismissed as harmless but looking at that grown up version and seeing the details of its segmented tentacles and scaly casing... The nightmares I had for years afterwards still fill me with a cold dread when they cross my mind. Feeding off us they grow to such sizes that if they weren't removed they would have forced our skulls open from the inside. Thanks to the protesters there were always rumours of such things happening and those same rumours were often used as an argument against letting the children be put at risk like that. Their mantra? "No knowledge is worth that sacrifice." I agree.


	2. We Follow

Perhaps it is that willingness to place such risks on our young that turned us into the civilisation we became. I'm beginning to remember why I left with such hatred in my heart. Over there on that island, the one that's just an empty pit now, that's where we used to hold our sacrifices. Even an advanced society can hold onto the barbaric practices of its past if they have cause. We had seen our God and they demanded our flesh. Only once in our history did we stand against them and many paid the price. It was vowed that our people would never again refuse any request made by them in an attempt to keep the peace. In my time we didn't necessarily believe they were truly a God but they were mightier than us and fear is a powerful motivator.

When the time came for the sacrifices to be made we would make our way to, at least at the time, the only consistently lush and fertile meadow that existed amongst our islands. There was only one structure; a domed roof supported by columns to keep out the weather, hiding the sky from us as we feasted. Colourful ribbons would be tied around pillars and torches whilst hanging candles would light the area once night fell and a small stage area would allow for a rotating bill of entertainment. We also had banquet tables that strained under the weight of the foods on offer. Before crossing islands you would salivate just from their welcoming aromas. Only children who had recently gone through their removal operations and the ward chosen to look after them during their recovery were exempt from attending the feast.

A barrier of sorts naturally erected itself around the perimeter that would allow us in but not out until after the whole affair was over. The night would never seem long enough as drinking and dancing were used as ways to hide the reason we were brought together. We would honour those taken before us and say goodbye to those who would be taken next. When it came to the latter it was always a general affair, one designed with just enough care to make it feel genuine when all anyone would be thinking is "please, don't let it be me". Eventually the music would stop, the food would be gone and the drink would run dry. Everyone found a place that was comfortable and we slept off the merriment.

When we awoke the next morning we would find the chosen were gone. It was always the same when the first realisations came. From somewhere you would hear an anguished screech followed by the wailing of the friends and the family as they come to terms with the fact it is they who have lost someone during the night. The scraps of the feast from the night before are cleared and a new one is set up. We hold a second, grand celebration in honour of the taken as if it would make any of it right. Or maybe it was just to make us feel better? In my travels I once came a across a race that would celebrate their dead in a similar way. Afterwards I was told that their celebrations represent the natural order and allowed them to connect to those that had passed on. For them it was a noble practice about honour and spirit and unity. Our way was one to ignore the fear of knowing we would have to do it again as much as for the willing ignorance that would otherwise lead us to ask where the taken end up. It's an answer I still haven't found.

There were of course stories that spoke of some eternal paradise and that to be taken was a sign of great honour. It isn't surprising to see the change in those stories after the failure to remove ourselves from the will of our God. Suddenly they weren't a benevolent being; they were a tyrant of infinite power. The depictions of where the chosen were taken changed to twisted landscapes of horror engulfed in an infinite fire. By the time I left no one really cared where they went, only that we were trapped in this never ending cycle in the first place. Better to believe them dead than lost in torture.

I was one of the lucky ones. Before leaving I didn't have to know the pain of losing someone that way. Once the celebrations are over the families have to go through the arduous task of recording the names of their loved ones in the Archives of the Taken before clearing out their belongings. It can't be easy to do that, seeing both the history and the unfinished future of a person laid out in the objects and memories left behind. I'll admit to being curious about who was lost after my departure. Would it have as strong an impact now? Everyone is gone and I mourned them a very long time ago but being here, looking around at it all... It's a different feeling up close. The anger came back anew and looking through those names would only serve to add mourning to my state of mind. What purpose would that serve so many years later?


	3. We Feel

There is one island here that I am glad to see in ruins. Despite the feat of engineering that it took to keep it standing as they continuously added new floors, it held within it darkness. Originally the Emotion Chambers were designed as a new form of entertainment, one that grew quickly in its popularity. Our Convocation took advantage of its success to encourage participation and let the momentum get out of hand.

Where the colossal tower once stood is now a ruined stump. Every now and then the clouds thin just enough to show the remnants of the building over taken by the plant life on the solid ground below. How tall did it reach in the end? How many people were still inside it when it fell? How many of those were bodies, rotted and forgotten by their loved ones unwilling to leave their own rooms? There were better ways to achieve the same level of enjoyment. I've seen the better options but for the Convocation it wasn't about better; it wasn't about enjoyment; it was about control.

I watched my friends lose themselves in that place until the day I lost them completely. My final decision to leave was helped by that pain. Everywhere I have been I have found places for the depraved to try filling their unfillable voids and yet care is still taken to help them, not encourage their bad habits. I've seen pods that create virtual worlds in a safe space. We created those spaces with drugs based on naturally occurring chemicals and built a prison in which to use them. All of it was under the guise of wellbeing and because it was considered natural, it was deemed safe... despite the contrary.

It became compulsory for us to go on a tour of the tower at least once. For most this was enough to lure them in but I was one of the few who couldn't be swayed. First they give a presentation on the history of the drug and its properties in such a cold and scientific way it's easy to believe it without question. They showed us what other people were experiencing. They showed us brightly coloured rooms with open windows letting in fresh air. They showed us people leaning back in chairs with their eyes closed and smiles on their faces.

What they didn't show us was what happened after the tours to those same, blissful bodies as they were preemptively moved to a higher floor and hidden away. We weren't shown the sagging skin and unnatural smiles as they began wasting away slowly. No mention of the smell from a poorly staffed institution that struggled to keep up with clearing up the bodies of the deceased.

It was always going to be a dangerous premise, messing with our emotions like that. Before the drug there were some of us who would deliberately go through rapid emotional changes just to feel the rush of nothing that waits in between each change. Then, suddenly, there was no effort to the change, the drug did it all for us. And yet I can look back now and see the good that came from the madness.

We had been a fairly violent people before the Emotion Chambers were built. Not because of aggression or an underlying violent nature but from a simple desire to feel that rush of the nothingness. Going from a calm state into one of anger was an easy way to do so. We were only ever that way to each other. Only another of our race would know that, once the attack was over, the true purpose behind it. It would also allow all parties involved to get the same benefit. And then the drug was created and people were too high to do much of anything except flock to that island, never to leave. Violence dropped, and general happiness of the populace increased. Of the ten million people who lived up in the sky before I left, less than two million were not slowly dying in that building. Perhaps others did as I did, left so as not to face the temptation? I would like to think so. To believe otherwise is too much.


	4. We Fall

Inevitably it appears my people have fallen. There is still much life here but none of it is ours anymore. Our achievements as builders, inventors and visionaries will still stand for a time but there will be no more. If it weren't for our scientific discoveries I never could have left to explore other worlds and escape this place. Perhaps I can seek out those interested in the histories of a dead civilisation to come and learn from our ruins. Give a chance for my people to still have a place amongst a larger universe than they got to know.

I see my past, both the beauty and the harshness, standing up here. When I decided to make this trip, after much convincing, I almost didn't make the climb up to the islands. Much had changed on the surface and it was a lot to take in. I don't know why I thought it would have been the same. Nothing stays unchanged forever but knowing that and seeing it are two very different things, I've found. The Surface Residents have started adapting my people's abandoned materials for their own advancements, that's the biggest change I saw down there. It's helping them to start exploring the vast oceans and, perhaps one day, the stars. My stories of my new life living aboard a spaceship seems to have spurred on their curiosity.

They had some stories to tell me in return about what they saw as the city in the sky began to fall. First they saw tourism beginning to drop until one day there were simply no more visitors, no deliveries and no communication. Surface Residents travelled as far as the first checkpoint but without attendants they didn't dare go any further. One thing that contributed to the separation between the Surface Residents and us on the islands was disease. In our history we brought to the surface a sickness that wiped out many of the civilisations we found below us. Not willing to leave that as their legacy, our ancestors cured them and helped them rebuild from behind the checkpoint. When I left we were still working on making sure it was safe for us, as much as for them, to allow the joining of land and sky. Not likely to happen now.

I was most interested to hear the second sign of something not being right that they saw. Not long after the silence from the islands something began turning the sky grey and purple but only during the sunlight hours. They described it as a slowly pulsing river, winding down towards the ocean where it disappeared beneath the waves. It was obvious, to me at least, what caused it. Part of me would have liked to have seen it; all those little creatures moving as one. I wonder why they chose to submerge themselves in the ocean though. They never showed signs of being aquatic, at least to my knowledge. I asked if they had seen any changes or tested the water to which they said no. Some of the crew I travel with offered to help them out whilst I came up here. It's the least I feel I could offer after the lives lost when the Emotion Chambers fell to their domain, killing thousands.

There was a loud cracking sound as the tower began to crumble. As they spoke of having no time to escape the pain in their voices was still fresh. It reminded me of the mornings after the sacrifices were taken. They honoured the dead that they found amongst the chambers along with their own, following the traditions they knew we had held as best they could. Their compassion was heart warming considering all that they were telling me both our peoples had lost.

Looking around the islands of my past I feel the anger has subsided. For a moment that nothingness of the in between was very alluring. I wanted to stay in that space just as those that wasted their life in that awful tower. Quickly it was replaced by an emptiness, one founded in a grief I wasn't aware I was capable of.

My home is gone. My people are gone. All that I knew is gone. Why did I come back? What did I want to achieve from all of this? As the sun begins to set I find myself automatically looking to the surface, searching for something to have stayed the same. There's one thing I miss. One smaller island that was kept as a garden always had the best view of spectacle from the surface. Now this island only has withered plants but still I sit and I wait.

A dark, navy sky spreads across the horizon with scattered stars, far away and barely lit. My eyes frantically scan the surface and with each passing moment I become anxious. Just one thing to show me not everything changed, that not everything was lost.

And then there it is. Can you see it? Coloured lights appearing on the surface and a flame speeding along special tracks to reach each lantern. I always thought it looked like a snake on fire winding its way around the landscape. After all I've seen today this is the thing to bring me to tears? Not the loss or the bodies or the fall of my people but this, the lighting of the lanterns on the surface. Each light matches a star in the sky and as a child I spent a lot of time finding the constellations amongst them. I can remember each one vividly. My favourite was the coiled serpent, Baromeneshk; Bridge to the Stars. They were a connection in our mythology and now I travel the stars. Guess I knew what I wanted even back then.

How long have we been up here? Feels like hours have passed. You were right, it was time for me to say a final, proper goodbye to these islands. Perhaps in time they will return to some semblance of beauty. I'm going to open each of the checkpoints leading to the surface when we go back down. The Surface Residents have already shown great ingenuity re-purposing what we had built but the cost of obtaining it is high and unpredictable. This way they can avoid more tragedy, I hope. One final goodbye, and then we should go back.


End file.
